A Rebel's Vow
by TigerVespa
Summary: I've never been one for rules. Guidelines and suggestions, maybe, but not rules. I'm Dom Weasley, and this is a collection of my many endeavors to get expelled from Académie Beauxbâtons de la Magic. And before you ask, yes, I am a guy.
1. France Encounters Dom

I've never been one for rules. Guidelines and suggestions, maybe, but not rules. Even my grandmother has a hard time controlling me, and she had six sons and a hoyden of a daughter. But according to everyone that's ever had the honor of meeting me, I'm my uncles Fred and George combined, as well as Sirius Black and James Potter. Though how their mischievous genes got into mine I'll never know, since I'm not related to Sirius or James Potter the First. Who am I, you might ask? I'm Dominique Mattieu Delacour Weasley, but if anyone ever even thinks about calling me Dominique they'll end up hanging off a cliff with a Beater's bat up their ass. I'm Dom Weasley, and this is a collection of my many endeavors to get expelled from Académie Beauxbâtons de la Magie, or as any normal British person would say, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. And before you ask, yes, I am a guy.

* * *

When I first turned eleven, I got two letters from magical education facilities. Since I live in Britain and my dad graduated from Hogwarts, I got a Hogwarts letter, but since my mum's whole side of the family went to Beauxbatons, I got one from them as well. The look of exultation on my mum's face when the Beauxbatons letter came I will never forget: that was the first and only time she's ever looked at me like that. I personally think she was terrified that I wouldn't get one; even at the tender age of eleven I had quite the reputation for mischief-making.

Of course, my perfect older sister had gotten a letter from France as well, but she had flatly refused to go to a school in a different country. Or at least that's what her excuse was, I personally believe that she just didn't want to be separated from her precious Teddy. But I was a whole different story. I couldn't _wait_ to get away from my parents and the suffocating pressure of belonging to the Weasley clan. If I went to Hogwarts then I'd be surrounded by cousins and fame on all sides, but at Beauxbatons there would only be a little attention paid to my arrival. To my innocent, naive, eleven-year-old mind, that fancy letter written in caligraphy on French stationary represented freedom.

Therefore, when my mum and dad sat me down to ask which school I'd like to go to, I immediately jumped at the chance to get as far away from parental authority as I could. Which was how I found myself walking through the streets of Paris, my mum clutching onto me with one hand and her purse with the other, on our way to get my school supplies at Boulevard de Cuivre, the magical shopping center of Paris.

I had lived my whole life immersed in the Wizarding world, and therefore had gone to Diagon Alley countless times. However, I had never been to Boulevard de Cuivre, the French equivalent to Diagon Alley and so when we walked through the intricate door that appeared in a giant beech tree's trunk after tapping it four times in a circle, I was as slack-jawed as any muggle-born.

Everything seemed to be so much more elegant and refined than in Diagon Alley. It was like one of the prissy pureblood balls, except on a shopping-mall scale. All the shop windows were clean, clear, and full of things that seemed to be pretty yet useless. I immediately hated it, and amused myself with imagining all the types of chaos and destruction I could cause. The part of my mind that sounded a lot like Uncle George thought, _It's dangerous to have so much glass in one place, imagine if someone decided to let out a bunch of free-thinking fireworks!_ A mischievous grin took over my face; France had no idea what they were getting into when they sent that letter.

* * *

I spent the rest of the summer going between my grandparents' houses – the Delacour chateau near La Rochelle on the Bay of Biscay, and the generations-old Weasley Burrow. For the first time in my short life, I was the center of my mum's world, because I was the only one of her children who showed even the slightest inclination to attend her "bien-aimé Beauxbatons." She was so worried that my French wouldn't be up to par that she made me speak in nothing except it for a month, after which I rebelled by writing – in French – _I bloody well know how to speak this fucking language _(Je ensanglanté sais bien comment parler cette langue baisante) on the front of the refrigerator in permanent, magic-resistant marker which I had acquired from Uncle George's shop. My parents capitulated with the logic that if I knew French swear words, I had to know the rest of the language.

After my mum's and my trip to Boulevard de Cuivre, I had found that France had no acceptable joke shops, and therefore I stocked up on everything I could get my uncle to give me, which happened to be quite a bit since he saw me as something of a protégé. Uncle George told me about all the stuck-up French students he had encountered during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and because he wanted to make sure that I never turned into one of them he was more than willing to part with some not-yet-in-production products. To say that I was thrilled would have been an immense understatement.

I knew from my mum that Beauxbatons was a school that valued decorum and elegance, so like the rebel I was I decided to be the exact opposite. I would enter with a bang, and things would get worse from there.

* * *

The night before I left England for France, I stayed at the Burrow with the rest of my cousins. This year a couple of the Weasley-Potter clan were entering school, and as such we soon-to-be-first-years had a secret meeting by moonlight in the meadow behind the Burrow. My cousins Fred, James (II), Roxy (Fred's twin sister), and Rose all attended. We were to be the first wave of Weasley pranksters since my uncles had been in school. A part of me wished that I was going to Hogwarts to help my cousins with their pranks, but the majority of me was glad that I would get all the credit for my genius ideas.

As we discussed ideas for first pranks at both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, James got an evil grin on his face. He waited for us all to be quiet, then said in a faux-serious voice, "We need to make a vow. Like the Marauders' except this is _ours_, and we aren't going to imitate the Marauders, we'll build off the foundation that they built." He had everyone's attention now, so he continued.

"We have to vow to create as much chaos as possible throughout our academic careers, as well as to never steal another person's idea for a prank. We are in this together, even though Dom will be in France, and as such we must work _with_ each other instead of _against_ them.

"We are the Weasley-Potter children, we have a legacy to uphold. Except I don't want to just live up to our uncles and the Marauders, I want to surpass everything they ever did. With your guys' help, I believe we can do that." James finally took a breath and looked at the rest of us for our input.

In the following silence I simply shrugged, "I agree. We have a duty to wreck havoc on the world, I'd hate to disappoint them." Roxy, Fred and Rose all agreed, though Rose seemed a bit uncertain. I suppose that when you're raised by Aunt Hermione breaking the rules isn't as ingrained as with everyone else.

So there in the middle of the meadow under the silent stars five eleven-year-olds made a vow to create pandemonium from the moment they got to school till the day they graduated. And as I sat there surrounded by my cousins, I knew that when we all returned to the Burrow for Christmas everything would have changed.

* * *

The next day I, Dom Mattieu Delacour Weasley, became the first Beauxbatons student to ever get a detention before school officially started.


	2. Friends and Fireworks

"Dominique Weasley, if you are not up in two seconds your broom, prank stash, and football will remain here when you leave." What a way to be woken up on your first day at a new school. However, as I realized that it was my _dad_ talking and not Mum, I decided that for the sake of my most valued belongings I should probably show some sign of life.

Therefore, thinking that I might keep some kind of nice feelings between my dad and I, I thrust my leg sideways out from the covers. Straight into my father's knee. _Wonderful start, Dom,_ I thought, _dismember your father while he can still punish you._ Out loud I said, "Sorry Dad, didn't know you were standing that close."

Once my father had accepted my profuse apologies – I _really_ didn't want to loose either my broom or my joke supplies, my football I could live without – and limped out of my room, I did one more cursory glance around my room to make sure I'd packed everything worth taking to France. _Fireworks? Check. Peruvian Darkness Powder? Check. Instant Impenetrable Ice? Check. Dung bombs injected with muggle gasoline? Check. School supplies? Who cares?_

At last I threw on some holey muggle jeans, a Manchester United football jersey, and some scuffed up black Converse with neon green pen dabbed on in places. To complete my look of rebel-without-a-cause I messed up my blonde hair, then threw on a cloak in order to stop my parents from noticing my not-quite-appropriate attire. Dragging my trunk behind me – Beauxbatons dark blue and silver instead of Hogwarts black and gold – I thumped down the stairs, ready to begin the transformation of the supposedly calm French school into the disaster zone whose epicenter is me.

* * *

As everyone in the whole of wizarding Britain knows, Hogwarts students get to school on a gigantic red train (any guesses on which Founder picked the color?), but I personally had absolutely no idea how Beauxbatons students got to _their_ school. According to Uncle Harry, Uncle Ron, Aunt Ginny, and Aunt Hermione, the Beauxbatons competitors arrived in flying carriages when they came to Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But that was about a thousand years ago, so perhaps things have changed. Mum refused to tell me because "it would ruin ze surprise," so she wasn't much help in satiating my curiosity.

When we arrived in France – trans-Atlantic apparating is _not_ fun – we were in an alley just across the street from some very fancy docks sticking out into the Seine. And gently bobbing up and down with the waves was a ship right out of some fairytale. It was an old-fashioned sailing ship with masts, sails, a figurehead that looked remarkably like a phoenix, and even a crow's nest. Of course, the inside of the ship was almost certainly expanded by magic, and probably more modern. However, the azure sails rimmed with gold and flapping softly in the wind made everything else seem faded and tawdry. The Hogwarts train was nothing compared to this majestic vessel whose name appeared in glittering letters engraved on the side of the bow: _**Esprit Magique**_.

For one moment even I was speechless, but then I realized how much more trouble one can cause on a ship than on a train and my mind was scheming again. _How much chaos can I create without making the ship sink?_ I wondered, still unable to take my eyes off the dazzling maritime contraption in front of me. _No bombs, that's for sure. Though I may still be able to get away with some non-flammable fireworks._

* * *

For most children who leave home for the first time at age eleven, saying goodbye to their parents is quite an emotional moment. For me, it was a quick hug for my dad, a hug and unavoidable kiss – I tried to dodge it, I really did – from my mum, and I was off. No tears – at least not from me –, no twinges of early homesickness, no vows to write every day (probably wouldn't even write once a _week_), nothing. I couldn't wait to leave home, and while they may deny it, my parents probably weren't too heartbroken to see me go. After all, having a child with a penchant for destruction can get quite expensive.

As expected, the inside of the boat was definitely touched up with magic. Something to make those prone to sea-sickness _not_ throw-up, expansion charms, everything to make the ship's interior seem more like a posh hotel than a mode of transportation from Paris to school. Not that I was complaining; I don't exactly mind relaxing in a gigantic puffy chair eating chocolates. However, I couldn't relax for long before other people around my age came looking for a place to spend the journey. First to arrive at the door of my compartment was an obviously fully-French boy with silvery-blonde hair like my mum's, tan skin, and a cheeky smile. If it hadn't been for that smile I would have booted him out as fast as a quick stinging hex can make someone leave, but that smile made me think that perhaps here was a kindred spirit. Setting aside the chocolate I had been examining, I stood up and introduced myself in a manner that befit a prankster, "Dom Weasley, have a toffee," and I held out a seemingly safe sweet.

Taking the toffee, the blonde replied, "Jacques Forgeron, thanks." The minute he swallowed his first bite Jacques's tongue started to grow rapidly, soon becoming too big for his mouth and draping itself out down his chest. The boy's eyes grew to the size of saucers when he turned to the mirror and saw what was happening. I was laughing so hard that my breaths had turned to wheezes and my eyes were tearing up. Looking from himself to me on the floor, Jacques also began to laugh, or at least tried to. Its a bit hard when you're tongue's nearly five feet long. Getting up from the floor, I gave the poor guy the other bit of the toffee and watched in slight disgust as his tongue shrank back to its original size.

When he could speak again, Jacques grinned at me and exclaimed, "That was bloody brilliant! What _are_ those things, and where can I get some?" From that moment on we were inseparable, two peas in a pod that were on their way to a carrots-exclusive resort.

The third member of our eventual trio wandered into our compartment about twenty minutes after the toffee incident. Her eyes were the strangest color, a dark gold with lighter amber specks. Unlike us two blondies, she had wavy mahogany hair with dark purple highlights that went wonderfully with the sky blue uniform she had already donned. Her dark skin hinted towards an Arab ancestry, though judging from her garb that was the only thing she had retained. Glancing at Jacques and I the girl muttered in a startlingly low voice, "Mind if I join you guys? Everywhere else is full and/or completely boring."

Jacques glanced at me to make sure I was okay with it, then replied, "Sure, as long as you don't get all girly and start talking about hair and fingernail polish. Then you're out." I shuddered when he mentioned fingernail polish – Victoire had once tied me to a chair and experimented with all the different colors in her collection on my fingers and toes, she only stopped because Dad came in and rescued me.

Shrugging again the anonymous girl said a bit louder, "I don't own a single bottle of fingernail polish, and the only reason I did this" – she motioned to her hair – "is because I knew it'd piss off my parents." Realizing that we still didn't know her name and vice versa, she sat down and continued. "I'm Reneè Bahadur, but call me Ren or you will wish you'd never met me. And you are...?" She let the question trail off, waiting for one of us to fill in with the answer. However, both Jacques and I were momentarily stunned by the girl sitting in front of us; she was the strangest female either of us had ever met. And that includes _all_ of my cousins, aunts, family friends, and grandparents.

Breaking the silence, I introduced myself. "Dom Weasley, soon to be the most infamous student Beauxbatons has ever encountered." I glanced over to see that Jacques was still stunned, so I introduced him as well. "This goober-fish is Jacques Forgeron, he's a lot smarter than he looks right now." I recalled what Ren had said about pissing off her parents, and decided to let her in on the plan Jacques and I had been hatching before she interrupted with her purple highlights and polish-free fingernails. "Would you like to be part of history, Ren? Because there's this thing Jacques and I are gonna do, and it will most definitely go down in the books. But be warned: Socializing with us will most likely get you in trouble, get you injured, and quite possibly make all the school authorities hate you. Especially the janitor, since he will clean up the mess when we aren't caught."

Ren grinned when I concluded my monologue and said simply, "So what's the plan?"

* * *

Jacques, Ren and I strolled through the decks of the ship quite casually, stopping to admire something or other like first-years were expected to do. We climbed the last set of stairs to the deck, where we at last saw where we were – floating down the middle of the Saône Rivière with absolutely nothing on either riverbank. Our group split up at the top of the stairs, myself drifting over to a nondescript corner where earlier I had noticed all the ropes tying the lifeboats to the masts were anchored. Ren and Jacques gravitated towards the biggest mast where they were sure to be seen, and when no one was looking at them Ren set off a smoke bomb, cloaking the whole deck in a thick haze of gray.

As everyone rushed towards where the smoke had originated from, I pulled out my wand and, pointing at the bundle of ropes, whispered two spells. First I did the quietest one, then the one which would create the most pandemonium. "Poena puniceus," a flash of purple light flew from my wand's tip to the center of the ropes, which glowed then absorbed the spell. Remaining where I was, I touched the tip of my wand to the ropes again and whispered, "Alacritas navis." Through the clearing smoke, I ran to the top of the stairwell and pulled out a bunch of Uncle George's new fireworks that don't disappear for at least three hours and chase everyone who runs away from them. If you don't run, you don't get chased. Like old Filibuster's fireworks, these also could be started by getting wet, except they didn't need as much liquid to start them and it didn't necessarily have to be water. Therefore, when I spit on my hands and rubbed them over each firework, they all blazed to life and zoomed down the stairwell, effectively making the whole school panic.

There was just one more thing for me to do before I could call this a completely successful prank. Tucking my wand into the back pocket of my jeans – Mad-Eye Moody would have been furious – I raced towards the tallest mast where Ren and Jacques had been before fleeing the scene in the haze of smoke. Grabbing onto the ship's rigging I began to climb, farther and farther until the people on the deck looked more like hamsters than humans. At last I reached my goal: the crow's nest. Pulling myself over the waist-height wall, I pulled the rolled-up banner out of the front of my shirt and, using some handy spells taught to me by my wonderful uncles, stuck it permanently to the middle crossbar of the sail. To make sure people noticed my hard work, I took two fireworks that I had saved from earlier, wet them, and threw them off the edge to explode just underneath my position.

By then the whole school had congregated on the top deck – better to be outside with fireworks than inside with them – and so they all looked up to see what the noise was about. Grinning from atop my vantage point, I pointed down at the sign that read, BEWARE: A NEW ERA HAS BEGUN. I spotted the pointed hat of a school official on deck, and braced myself for what I knew was coming as they pointed to their throat with their wand to magnify their voice.

"Dominique Weasley, you have wreaked havoc on this whole ship. You have endangered yourself as well as other students, not to mention the school rules you have broken. This is inexcusable. Your irresponsibility and lack of repentance will _not_ go unpunished. Not only have you embarrassed yourself, you have also embarrassed your family and your school. You are to report to the janitor's office the first night of classes at precisely eight o'clock for a well-deserved detention. We shall also be sending a letter to your parents and notifying the Headmistress of this horrific stunt. Now get down from there _immediately_!" If the lady had been a bit more stern perhaps I would have respected her more and thereby gotten down faster, but as it is I meandered my way down with a few jokes along the way.

I pretended to slip a couple times, chuckling as I heard the gasps coming from below, and when I finally did get my feet on the deck, I bowed to the gathered crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am Dom Mattieu Delacour Weasley, and this is just the beginning of a very exciting seven years at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! In case any of you were wondering the spells literally mean:**

**Alacritas navis = animate boats**

**Poena puniceus = paint purple**

I would love to hear your suggestions, critiques, favorite quotes, and anything else you'd like me to know. Thanks again for reading!


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